Various Previews
by Lunatic of a Third Kind
Summary: I've proven myself to not have the ability to continue a story, so here I put snippets and snappets that I HAVE written. First up, a snip of a Okami story...And my newest, Harry Potter! I have a lot of Harry Potter things.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This a preview of a story I HOPE I work up the moxie to make. I really do. Tell me if I've got a good concept going...please?

Ammy couldn't help but wag her tail when she finally spotted the creature she'd heard sneaking by. She crouched down and watched a small rabbit pad through a patch of nearby flowers, occasionally stopping to sniff at the ground. It did a very convincing job of wandering aimlessly, while at the same time creeping farther away from her.

Amaterasu wasn't fooled by it in the least.

She gave a short bark, and unlike most rabbits who jumped, squeaked, then ran away, this one snuck a sideways glance at her hiding spot. Amaterasu, if she'd had the vocal chords for it, could've chuckled. Her quarry had removed any doubts as to who exactly they were in one fell swoop.

_Hello there, Yumigami,_ the wolf thought to herself.

Yumigami was obviously trying to avoid her today. Usually, Ammy would just let the rabbit go on with whatever she was doing. But today, she was very, _very_ bored – and there was only so many good deeds one could do for random inhabitants of Nippon without hungering for just a _little _chaos. Oh sure, she'd never do anything destructive – or at least not purposefully. Yet there was not a soul who could say Amaterasu was not a playful goddess.

So Ammy barked again, inciting a twitch from Yumigami. The rabbit had given up hiding from Ammy, and just turned to look at her. Actually, more precisely to give her a snarky glare.

Ammy barked one last time, sadly not making Yumigami twitch again. In one fluid motion, Ammy was no longer crouching – now she was running at the little rabbit goddess, in the hopes of making her run. Ammy was in the mood for a nice chase...

What happened, however, was that the dratted rabbit just hopped out of the way. She tried to turn to run after her, but Ammy just ending up skidding and then--

Hit a tree.

A few long, dizzy seconds later Ammy's vision focused again. Now she could finally identify that strange, fuzzy shape over her as Yumigami.

"Out of shape, Amaterasu?" the rabbit asked smugly.

Ammy just let out a small growl before closing her eyes. She was still really, really dizzy...

When she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere completely different than that happy, sunny meadow with Yumigami. She was somewhere with the cloud of evil stifling the sun's rays, dirtying the air...she was, quite literally, hundreds of years away.

Amaterasu woke up from her dream in the wee hours, just as the sun was starting to bring the world back to life. She was curled under one of the many giant ancient trees of Agata Forest, with a Poncle shrouded in a green glow sleeping by the tip of her nose. Ah, yes, that was Issun...

And that wonderful time with Yumigami was a far off memory, a scattered dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Anyway, this is a Drawn to Life idea - where the Creator never answers Mari's call. Wilfre covers the world in darkness, and ends up slowly going insane as he wanders the empty expanse. I know, it's not Okami - but the majority of my snippet that will appear in this collection **are.** For now, I present you with Wilfre conversing with himself. This document is likely to mysteriously grow until I either get my moxie level to 9000+ (the required amount to start a story and stay with it) or drop it as is in disgust. Kekekekekeke.

* * *

_Well, you've done it now. You've succeeded. Look around, Wilfre – this is your __**world.**_

_Satisfied with it? Pleased? Fulfilled, perhaps?_

"Shut up."

Wilfre knew, of course, that arguing with himself (let alone ordering himself to stop being right) was a telling sign of the state of his sanity. But _still._

_You certainly did change the world into something the Creator could never have envisioned._

_Good job on that, by the way. Beautiful work you've done here._

"Can't you leave me be for one moment?"

_You want your self to leave yourself alone? Fine piece of logic there._

_Maybe even as fine as the one that let you turn the world into __**this.**_

A long drawn-out sigh pierced what was normally staunch silence.

His mind hadn't always been in this… state. In fact, he'd felt perfectly fine and fulfilled after the shadow fully covered the world. Some immeasurable amount of time wandering the featureless black later, he'd ended up like this.

_Yup, this sure is a vast improvement. Congratulations again on your fabulous achievement._

Well, he couldn't be _all_ insane yet, if he could still comprehend sarcasm.

"Shut up…"

As his own voice echoed back to him, Wilfre realized it was influenced by a slight choke.

He was cracking.

_Don't be so sure you weren't already cracked._

* * *

The thought suddenly seized him that gee, wasn't it odd that his footfalls made no noise? Or his breathing? Wait, was he breathing?

_Monster Raposa don't follow the same rules as real Raposa, remember?_

He knew that. How had he forgotten that? His body hadn't acted like a normal living Raposa's body for years. A lot of years. How many years?

..How many years had it been like this? All dark?

_Don't flatter yourself. It's been less than a year._

Oh. How did he..you…that voice…know that?

* * *

_So, how's that endless wandering working out for you? Find anything else to taint?_

A spike of anger laced up through Wilfre's near endless fatigue.

"Why don't you ever shut up?!"

It was a bit deterring that he couldn't think up something better to snap, and not for the first time Wilfre wondered how much his mind had deteriorated.

_What mind was there to deteriorate? This is the same mind responsible for the current state of things._

"You're redundant. Broken record. Parrot with just one phrase."

_Pot and kettle, Wilfre._

* * *

There was something nagging Wilfre. It was hard to tell what – he'd lost a lot of his focus by now, and it took an effort to call it back into order.

He'd stopped walking, and bent down to the ground, curious to find out if it was the cause of the odd feeling.

It was like all his senses woke up at once – the ground was cold and oddly soft (snow?) and that cold seemed to drive into him.

And there was the wind, as well.

It had been snowing in Raposa Village when the clouds covered the world.

_Of course, this is discounting the huge portion of the world also covered in snow._

But he'd turned that into an empty expanse – which he hadn't done to Raposa Village.

_How cute. You're experiencing the emotions of "remorse" and "hope." Guess which is warranted and which isn't, Wilfre._


	3. Chapter 3

Canon Harry (Epilogue Age) falls into the mind of a two-year-old Harry just before he's taken from the Dursleys by...Lucius Malfoy?!

Basically, one of those "Harry is raised by the Dark Side" fics with...well, a twist. This is only a rough draft of a beginning, mind you, if I continue this. And I nev~er dooooooo~ But if anyone is interested in the concept then by GOD take it and RUN far far away.

* * *

Harry's eyes nearly crossed when he woke up to see one of the plywood walls of the cupboard under the stairs in front of him.

First, that was probably because his face was right against the wall. Second was he didn't have any glasses on.

Third was he hadn't been in this cupboard – nor been able to fit inside it – in a large number of years.

Sweet Merlin and all of King Arthur's court, what was he doing at 4 Privet Drive?

When he pushed away from the wall, he found his body disgustingly uncooperative. Had he been drugged? Was he hallucinating right now? Had all the things he always feared happening to his beloved family...happened?

When he did manage to get up, he tripped. Over his own trousers.

Muttering oaths in what he found to be a curiously high voice, Harry pulled himself up from the dirty floor and laboriously folded up his baggy clothing so that he could actually move without falling flat on his face.

He stopped, now, to listen, as he swore he'd just heard a familiar voice. Harry searched his mind for whose, but decided it was probably someone friendly to him, perhaps on a suicidal rescue mission (Wizards seemed to _love_ those) so he bellowed to his would-be rescuers.

"'M in here! It's me, Hawwy!"

And stopped before he could bellow anymore. The HELL was wrong with his voice?!

The door was broken down.

And he found himself staring into the blurry but oh so recognizable face of Lucius Malfoy, who looked a lot better than the last time Harry had seen him – namely, dead and years older.

Harry screamed bloody murder.


End file.
